


S'up

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Boys in Skirts, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 15:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16410839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis and Prompto are doing hard to explain stuff.





	S'up

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Prompto’s breath hitches as the skirt rides a little higher, Noctis bunching it up with one hand and scooping the other inside the white lace of Prompto’s panties. Prompto’s thighs visibly tense, and that goes straight to Noctis’ cock—he can feel every little movement that Prompto makes. His fistful of miniskirt draws closer against Prompto’s stomach so he can tighten his grip, pull Prompto back against him, and he nips at the shell of Prompto’s ear. Prompto shudders. Noctis mutters into it, “You’re so cute, Prom...”

He really is. The skirt fits him just right, in that it’s snug across his waist and barely covers any of his legs. The usual skinny jeans have been cast aside, shed and strewn across Noctis’ living room, to make way for thigh-high socks that leave only a thin stretch of skin. Except Noctis has the skirt pulled up, so when he looks down over Prompto’s shoulder, he can see _everything_. He palms Prompto’s cock and gently extracts it from his panties, leaving his balls still tucked inside. Pointing the crowning tip straight up, Noctis purrs, “Take some good pictures for me.”

Prompto sucks in a shaken breath. He has his camera in his hands—the big, heavy one that Noctis gave him for his birthday. He brings it up to his face, pointing down at his lap, and then Noctis hears the front door click open.

He shoves Prompto’s skirt down and withdraws both hands, leaving poor Prompto to yelp as the waistband of his panties snaps back against his dick. Ignis rounds the corner, two grocery bags in hand, and looks over at them with a complete _what the fuck_ expression.

Noctis doesn’t have to see Prompto’s face to know he’s blushing up a storm. It’s probably a good thing that Noctis doesn’t see it. Prompto’s too hot when he’s flushed—it always makes Noctis want to kiss and lick every last freckle on his red-hot skin.

After years of facing press and public, Noctis is better at keeping his shock and embarrassment in check. He tells Ignis in an admirably steady voice, “Prompto lost a bet.”

“He, uh... kicked my ass in King’s Knight...” Prompto provides weakly. He probably shouldn’t, because his voice is squeaky and _off_. Ignis lifts one arched eyebrow.

He asks wryly, “That involved you warming his lap?”

“Uhh...”

“He has to take a humiliating photo,” Noctis counters. The skirt itself isn’t shameful, just unusual for Prompto’s style of dress, but their position is definitely more questionable. Ignis still doesn’t look convinced. 

But his phone goes off in his pocket, and Noctis wills everything in the universe to make it a non-life-or-death emergency. 

Apparently, the universe likes him. First it gave him Prompto, then it gave him Prompto willing to indulge his fantasies, and now it has Ignis announcing, “I’m needed at the Citadel—I’ll return shortly to start on dinner.”

Noctis doesn’t let the victory creep into his voice. “Thanks, Specs.” Prompto squirms, which he just barely manages to get through, and then he adds, “Can you make it for three? I think Prompto’ll be staying.”

Tight-lipped, Ignis nods. Clearly, he doesn’t approve of their antics. Fortunately, he spares Noctis the lecture about creating photographs he wouldn’t want to see posted in the papers.

He sets the groceries on the table, takes way too long putting the chilled items away, then, finally, leaves. As soon as the door closes, Prompto lets out a choked moan.

Noctis thrusts upwards, having been buried balls-deep in Prompto’s tight channel the entire time. Prompto cries out and nearly drops his camera. 

“C’mon, babe,” Noctis coos, returning both hands to knead Prompto’s leaking cock. “Ride me good and take some cute pics, and I _might_ just wear that collar you want next week...”

Prompto nods distractedly, digs both knees into the sofa, and fucks himself on Noctis’ cock like the perfect secret boyfriend that he is.


End file.
